Nyyark

A large cold drop awoke him. He sat up violently and saw the perpetual gray that was this morning. He was damp, as was everything around him. A cold misty sort of drizzle fell from the sky, washing away his view of the plains before him. Kyle's spirits were very low, for a soggy forest waited to be trekked, and that was not a divine creator of happiness. Kyle looked to his left and saw his father’s sword, covered in dried gore and not a few flies. ‘Disgusting,’ thought Kyle, and It worried him to know a pair of his clothes were little better. Not a happy day, nor happy person. It had to have been whatever he'd killed last night. It was very unsettling, how his mood had changed so drastically. Kyle decided he just must not like killing, and that's why he was so unhappy. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't even sure why he had killed them, or what they were. That was the truly frightening thing. Whatever those were, they had stirred up enough hated that he obliterated as quickly as possible. 'Nothing but passing thoughts' thought Kyle, and then he knew he was losing it. What an odd idea. He would have sworn it was a nightmare if it wasn't the sword-DAMN the sword. His father would have had his hide for him leaving it like that. Maybe this rain wasn't so bad after all. The unkempt blade a motivating factor, Kyle leapt out of his sleeping roll. He then discovered he was sore. Fortunately he had no time to grumble, his conscious pecking at him madly. He stepped out into the drizzle with the weapon, and began scrubbing it against the wet grass. When he was satisfied all of whatever it was was off, he went back under the less wet canopy of the tree. His slightly damp shirt became even wetter as he made sure the blade was dry, and then sheathed it back in its protective case. That felt better. His blood was moving now, and so in the spirit of progress he packed his things, and began his woody walk. The ground was soft, and the roots were hard. This was much more difficult than his mad rush in last night. If they had but waited today, they might of had the circular thing his mother gave him. Rings, he dubbed it then. It was a nice name, and also the name of the family cat. Kyle only hoped he didn't start talking to it, like he had the cat. His will lasted only an hour, after that he began a one sided conversation that lasted the rest of the day. It kept Kyle mildly entertained while he walked. It shocked Kyle when Rings answered him. "How much further till Kyrnath do you think, Rings?" "Just down the Road son." "What!" "Boy, over here." Kyle looked up to see a farmer and realized he was out of the woods. Apparently his discussion with Rings had been more than a little entertaining. "Yeah, Kyrnath is just down the trail, you help me load up my wagon, and I'll give you a ride in, what do you say?" Spoke the farmer. "Uh, sure, the ride would be appreciated." Responded Kyle. "Follow me then, the load's over here," Said the farmer, then he muttered to himself, "Rings, Ha, kids these days, can hardly keep up with them." The supplies of vegetables and grains were Kyle's job, and though he was tired from the day's travel, he found his job light enough. The man tied two cows to the side of the cart, and then harnessed the horses. "What's your name Son?" asked the Farmer. "Kyle, sir." Said Kyle. "Well Kyle I'm William Plower, but you can call me Bill. My son's been out courtin' lately, and he's been coming back late. Well I don't really like making this trip alone at night, not that we get much in the neighborhood of bandits 'round these parts, but in my age I worry about these things." Explained Bill "Kyle, this is what we'll do, I'll guide the horses, and you sit in the back atop the grain, so that anyone commin' can see ya. With that big ol' sword on yer back, anyone will think twice of stealin' from Ol' Bill." The day had cleared up, and the sun was low on the horizon. It gave an orange glow to the trip, and relaxed Kyle very much. "So Bill," asked Kyle to pass the time, "Have you lived here long?" "Aye, I was born an' raised on the out skirts of Kyrnath." Explained Bill, "Most of my families bones lie beneath this ground. You see that tangle over there?" Bill pointed to a section land that was overgrown with trees ivy and tall grass. Kyle nodded. "That was where I met my wife. Of course back then is was a splendid apple orchard." Bill sighed. "The War came down hard here." Hardship from The War was something Kyle was intimately familiar with. "I..I.." stuttered Kyle, "I lost my father in The War." Normally this wasn't so hard for him, it had been so long ago, yet the overgrown orchard seemed to heighten his loss. Looking in the wild landscape, Kyle saw himself. No longer did birdsong from the wild trees reach Kyle's ears, for his was hearing the ghosts of the past. His ghosts. Bill watched Kyle silently, then reached back and patted is shoulder. "If you want lad we ca-” Bill was cut short. "All we got back was this sword and a small bag of gold." Kyle said distantly. "The sword had been in his family for years, and it was the only one we had. The cart that bore it had no information other than he had died. It didn't stop long, because it had too many other deliveries." Kyle's thought poured out like a stream. The Orchard seemed to have broken something. "We put the sword up on the wall. I never dared to touch it until...” Kyle stopped. Bill opened his mouth to say something, but Kyle continued before Bill could speak. "Something had been stealing sheep from the village herd. We suspected a large wolf, but couldn't catch it. The Shepard’s son was on watch one day. I was out talking with him, for we were good friends. It leapt out of the bushes and attacked a nearby sheep. Both Matt and I screamed, and it turned on us. It was a huge cat. Its front was covered in the blood of the sheep. Matt yelled at me to go get help and waved his arms to distract the beast. I was...terrified. I ran to my house as fast as I could, and told mother to get the town guard. Then I saw my father's sword. With out thinking I grabbed it to go help Matt. When I got back he was up a tree and fighting a losing battle to keep the cat down. I roared and charged. I don't really remember what happened then. The guard says he came in time to see me dodge a slash and cut the thing's throat. I had a huge gash in my side, and was in bed a week before I could move about. The guard trained me after that, because he saw that I had natural talent with a blade. I have always kept my father's sword nearby since then." Kyle finished Bill was quiet for a bit then said "I'm sorry 'bout yer father lad. In town I have a friend. Red is a good man, I'm sure he'll let you stay at my request." Kyle nodded thankfully. Then Bill changed the topic to avoid the War. Again Kyle was thankful. After a while, the wagon arrived at Kyrnath safely, perhaps thanks to Kyle. If nothing else Kyle learned on his journey where he would stay for the night. "Hey Bill" said the merchant. "Hello Red" said Bill. "Aye, and I brought ya somethin' else this time. This here's Kyle, he's a good lad, helped me load up my wagon, and made sure no one but you unloaded it. He needs a place to stay for the night, do you think you could have him?" Asked Bill. "Yeah I have room for him, besides we go a ways back Bill, I certainly owe you taking in a friend at least. Well Kyle, would you be so kind as to help me unload this wagon?" said Red. So Kyle set out undoing his previous labors. It was actually easier this time, having a nice wagon ride to rest he muscles. It wasn't long before he was done unloading. They both wished Bill a fond farewell, and then Kyle entered the house of Red. Edited by: Nyyark at: 12/4/02 2:14:07 pm

Late one night, far past their bedtime, Two kids looking for kicks picked up ammunition. The old dilapidated temple was their vision, To hunt Zombies was their mission. Little did they know, on that late night, Odd laser experiments were preformed on the frights. Grafted on forearms now decaying, Laser guns with Chromium plating. The front door to shotgun fell Mad-tired kids let out a yell Blowing away everything in sight Where hid the Zombies on this night? Then in the main room all alone. Ventured the small kid, stiff as a bone. The other watched around the bend The trap was set, gun in hand, Then the unthinkable took place, A blue beam hit the little ones face. Paralyzed by fascination and shock The trap failed, the trapper stopped. The Zombies proceeded to run in a circle, The lasers crossing at a beautiful angle. A bizarre dance it appeared, Some flaw of Zombie AI, it was weird. "Hey" cried the friend in hiding "Its the Dance of the Lazer Zombie" heard the one who was dieing He died in throes of mad sleepless laughter. Then the Zombies turned to the new target they were after. The boy didn't even put a fight He just hoped they'd dance all night. Light dissection, he joined the grave, By odd humor, dancing Lazer Zombie made. Edited by: Nyyark at: 6/17/02 8:21:12 pm

Awwwwww

It was your assignment, so I owe you this poem... (the clever pun was actually a mistake, but oh well)

Ignitor of tounges, spark the agrument, Augment our lungs, debate a statment. No fault of your own that youthful passion burns And blood flows easialy to impressionable ears.

Hail To Mira, Hail The Pen! Welcome. If you wish to be recognised for membership, post something in the Recruiter's Office. Looking forward to seeing more of you.

Your not wasteing your life, your living the future.

(Conversion confusion, this is actually the fourth post in this thread) I often find that analysing the sub-concious can be as fun as formatting it To this poem seems to go through three steps. The first is dissatisfaction with the world, and the disire to change. Then the perspective seems change to one of working to better oneself, but to no advial. The poem denounces that as a circular trap. Then it ends with instead of working to change the world, or your place in it, you change your goal. You let the world be the world, and you be you. I think this poem traces the evolution of the outlook on the world, and ends up in a healthy happy conclusion. I like it, well done.

Tiredness was the father of both my poems, and unfortunately the slayer of the first. To try and clarify, It wasn't unrequited love that stayed the hand of destruction. Actually, I was really upset, and wishing I could destroy the system, but I realized that with the Internet, I don't know enough about my friends to ever look into mass destruction. I see everyone here I like and don't know anything real about, and I wonder how many I like and don't know. I found the situation ironic, mainly because the solution to save the humanity that is loved was to destroy it. But the narrator of the poem couldn't bring itself to destroy what it loved. I hope my insight into me helps. =)

ny = ni as in night. yark = ark as in dark.

Interesting. I think it was well written, even if it wasn't in my tastes.

I like it, well done. I just watched Fight Club, and this is amplifing some of the themes of that movie.

The corruption offends. The decay without end. Fungus on a rotting log is called growth. I wish to worship it with fire and poison. To burn out the rot and kill its children. All deck of all queens highlighted, Provided to give the ants hope, Who will never go beyond slave So they will be able to cope And provide maximum efficiency. A roulette wheel, Every one stacks it, Like mold the fortune spreads The log but a sacrificial Calf A polished host. The minds are in jail, And they think they are free, If They find the Key who will turn it, They are all crippled. And can't find the lock. Destructive railroad derailed. Individual beams of light shine. Glittering in the Smut. It won't be swept up, Because of the weakness of compassion. --- This is pretty much the same, only a little more clear I think. I hope this makes more sense. Edited by: Nyyark at: 6/13/02 9:56:54 am

Know that Blood wouldn't hurt itself like that willingly. Slaves of Selfishness commit many terrible deeds. The only way to be free is to change your audience. They are not ready for you to succeed yet, let them grow a bit, and then maybe they can appreciate how much you have.

Emotionally, your loved ones can only hurt you as long as you let them. I think that they're able to cause you pain shows just how much you care. I don't know if I agree with Wyvern's optimistic statement. I do think your a great writer, but some people can't ever appreciate wonderful things. Perhaps rather than expecting a change on their part, you could change your approach. They might not be strong enough to change. I think you struck that chord with the last two lines.

You say I'm keeping my self down. Did you ever think I was hiding from you? Ask me why I don't fit in. Perhaps I don't want to. Maybe I'm different from you. Perhaps I don't want what you do. Maybe I can have my own thoughts, and ideas. Just a chance that its true. Who exactly did you think cast me out? It couldn't have been you, you have nothing on me. What do you have that I could desire? I want to know, I really wonder. Am I lost, or are you just on the wrong path. Perhaps I'm not confused, or lost, helpless. Perhaps I see the way I want to go. And do what I want to do. He is just rebellious. He is just angry. I'm not upset. I pity. You who can't even see me, How could I be angry at you. Not even that on me Not a single hold on me. This time the beam is in your eye And the speck is in mine. Why don't you learn to find yourself Before you tell me how to be.

Interesting. I like it, and if flowed well. *applause*

Really Really Good! I absolutely adore this poem.

A swift wind blew back the golden strands of hair from Kyle's face. His white teeth greeted it in a grin, and the gorgeous blue sky made his grin wider. Kyle had set out a week ago, walking where his feet took him. He wasn't sure why he had set out, but he knew it was right. All he had was a pack of basic supplies, first aid, and two special possessions. One from his father, may The Court rest his soul, and one from his mother. His Fathers gift to him was a sword covered in ruins. Kyle didn't really know what they meant, but the sword reminded him of his father, and that meant more than anything. The gift of his mother was even less tangible. It was a spherical wooden sculpture that had many faces depending how you looked at it. The only constant part was a small black obsidian globe in the center of the sphere. Kyle wasn't sure of what it was, but he knew it was important. Kyle pondered his mother's globe as he took in the world around him. The field was at his waist, and pink, blue, and yellow flowers dotted the green sea before him. A rythmic wind was gusting, causing the grass to bend in predictable flows. To Kyle, it was simply amazing. If Kyle wasn't mistaken, the town of Kyrnath was but a day's walk away, and he thought there might be someone there to identify the globe. Kyle walked the rest of the day through the massive field, his only encounter was a butterfly, and it sidetracked him about a minute with its powerful beauty. The sunset before he reached the forest's edge, so Kyle traveled a ways after dark to reach it. The stars were beautiful as he reached the first of the great trees, and Kyle fell asleep gazing at them. In the middle of the night, a sharp sound awoke him. He shot straight up, and his sword was withdrawn from his sheath. Two shadows withdrew before him. "Rogues", shouted Kyle, but before he could take any action, the shadows were running into the forest. "Better rogues” One said as retreating. "Than We” Finished the other. Then they rushed off into the wood. "In that case..." Said Kyle, and he charged into the woods, body in full tilt. His Father's Sword was the helm of a Raging ship, and the sea tossed forest just got out of the way. "You'll have to be Stopped!" CLANG! A chitin limb halted the swords onslaught just a breath away from to fear-lit lamps the thing would have called eyes. Ricocheted momentum created a rolling wave that drove through the exposed shore of the creature’s middle. And with a roar the tidal frenzy carried self forward to the other. More lithe and less surprised the second creature snaked around the lighting like strokes. As lance like arm sought Kyle’s heart, but was detoured by his guiding arm. Instead the limb found the ground, which it pierced with a vengeance, only to be trapped by its efficiency. The creature hissed loudly for the split second it had its head then it was quiet. Kyle spun about in what would have been a knee-shattering blow with the flat of his sword in response to the soft gurgling behind him. Kyle’s sword bashed the half thing in the shoulder. If fell on its back and screamed obscenities. "Evil foolish enough to name itself will not be permitted to adulterate the beauty of this artifact." Kyle spoke coldly. The thing howled curses until Kyle ran its heart through. It then fell limp on the ground. Kyle panted heavily. Sweat drenched his face, his arm had a nick he'd failed to notice receiving, and the entire front of his shirt and pants was splattered with blood. 'Not the best first impression for the town' he thought. He then remembered his reason for going to town. Kyle surveyed the mess before him, the moved on to the headless corpse. Nearby was a sack. He opened hit up, and as he expected it was his mother's gift. He put the Orb back in the sack, and walked back to the rest of his things. The air was cool, and after the nightly walk Kyle felt a little better. When he reached what he had, Kyle stripped off what he had and, after taking out the artifact, put them in his newly acquired sack. He then put on fresh cloths and vowed to bathe in the next stream he found. Exhausted after the fight, he went right back to sleep. Edited by: Nyyark at: 12/4/02 2:20:22 pm

I define guild in the sense of a real life guild, where one learns a trade skill. Websters dictionary: Guild: (n) An association or corporation of persons of the same trade, pursuits, or interests formed for their mutial aid and protection, the maintainance of standards, or the furtherence of some purpose; especially in medieval times, a society of merchants or artisans. (from here on, I'm practicing writing for a history paper, so I probably sound pretty obvious, bear with me) Based on this dictionary definition, I'd say I agree with the dictionary. I also say that ArchMage players tend to see guilds as agressive and having an us/them mentality. I think this is because it was a war game. I would like to expand the definition of guild to encompass the other aspects possible with the definition the dictionary presented. Also I disagree with the statement: "We call this a Guild because that is the RP structure we are all family I disagree with this statement because I have never been part of any guild besides this one, if it is a guild. Thus I am not familiar with the RolePlaying structure of a guild. Thus All is not a true statement. This frightens me because Zool is generaly very good with not making generalizations. That he was ingrained with the guild structure so much that he assummed everyone was causes me to wonder about the Pen. Thus My definition of a guild is one of a place to learn. This is supported by things like the dictionary. It does not only apply to wargame guilds, although Zool may think everyone is familiar with that term. If the definition of guild was broadened, The Pen Is Mightier Than The Sword may indeed have an eaisier time defining itself. (pretty good eh? I even magaged a hypocricy, my History teacher loves using those)

My harp plays chords to a stairway of candles Because my armor is laid to rest on my Mantle, Golden strings of a dim flame in my chest are plucked, Reverberation through-out, harmonized, my soul is Rocked. Amber and Gold touched with age, A honey gold light on an old page. Time passes and leaves me crying. The chill Autumn breeze, and the twilight of spring, Outlines against the skies, a black crow's wing. The unadmired beauty is set in itself, Shattering as I weep for it. A coin cries out as it is dropped, The metallic ring to time is lost And the world still moves on. But my heart stays still, And holds on to the sunset, The horizon fades before me And my tears taste of salt. Edited by: Nyyark at: 6/11/02 5:59:44 pm

I just can't seem to stay away from the fruit.... This flowed so well that I didn't notice the poem, and only got a hunk of meaning, and a flood of memories. You can definatley take that as a compliment.

Re-reading Zool's post I think you AM people have a twisted perception of the word guild =)

I'd say praising her own work was a good way to get an agreement =). I do like the plot. It's very interesting. I think that when you get a little bit better with your delivery, you'll make a great storyteller. I'm pretty much in agreement with Yui Temae. Good Job, give us more.

Agreed in value of read and poem. Good job! Edited by: Nyyark at: 6/5/02 10:40:48 am